


Beautiful Marks

by Kat_Greenleaf



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Body Image, Body Worship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Steve Rogers, M/M, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Has Stretch Marks, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, stretch marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-19 11:54:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29998947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Greenleaf/pseuds/Kat_Greenleaf
Summary: When Steve underwent Project Rebirth, he grew. His body stretched. It lengthened and widened, and it shows. Although he is supposed to be the perfect specimen, unblemished and scar-less, he's covered in stretch marks.Steve is very self-conscious about these marks, and his partner, Tony Stark, sometimes has to remind him that his stretch marks are beautiful.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 68





	Beautiful Marks

Living in a hole-in-the-wall apartment after the Depression meant that Steve never had a mirror this big before. The mirror in his and Tony’s bedroom was taller than Steve, and reached all the way to the floor. He could see his entire body, all at once. Despite how good it was for times when he needed to review an entire outfit, and for terrifying him in the middle of the night when he forgot it was there... Steve did not like it very much. 

That did nothing to keep him from looking at himself in it. In fact, he was now. He stared at himself, shirtless, in only his briefs, bared for his own judgement. 

If it had been on another man, Steve’s musculature would have impressed him. He would have swooned and fantasized and sighed at the fact that he would never be that tall and handsome. But thanks to Dr. Erskine’s procedure, here Steve was; tall and handsome. Perfect. Steve was supposed to be perfect, that was the whole point of the serum. Steve’s body mostly lived up to that label: he stayed fit and shapely no matter how much he ate, he was more agile, stronger, faster, and more endurant than any human had ever been. 

But Steve knew where the imperfections lay in his skin. They were hard to see, especially in the lower lights of the bedroom, but he could feel them. He reached up, hand hovering over his chest in hesitation before his fingers brushed his skin. Lines of thin skin dipped under his fingers at intervals as his hand passed over them. He watched the movement in the mirror, trying to reconcile the texture with the apparent smoothness. The stretch marks were not just on his chest, though. His hand traced lower, feeling them on the sides of his pectorals, and curling up and over his defined abdominal muscles. 

Both hands, now, lifted to feel his sides; to feel how long lines stretched up from his hips, over his obliques. Steve swallowed hard, his eyes catching the movement of his throat in the mirror. He quickly lowered his gaze, not willing to risk looking himself in the eye, not when he was doing this. Again. He lowered the hem of his briefs, just enough to feel the marks that lined the vee of his hips. One hand traced them up his stomach, and then he pulled his briefs back into place. 

Each hand, in turn, reached for its opposite bicep, feeling the way the marks stretched out from under his arm and curled around the muscle. It was unclear, even to Steve, why he felt the need to examine his stretch marks the way he did. Maybe it was punishment, because he was supposed to be perfect, scar-less and unblemished, and yet there were all of these marks. Maybe it was to remind himself that, no matter how miraculous Dr. Erskine’s serum was supposed to be, Steve Rogers would always be imperfect.

In the 30’s, it was sickness and disease. In the future, it was defying the simple premise of the one thing that made him useful. 

Steve lowered one hand at a time, letting his fingertips brush over the ends of the stretch marks that spidered out from his inner thighs. There were marks on his outer thighs, too, and he touched them as well. He felt his jaw begin to tremble, and ground his teeth together, clenching down to stop the movement. Steve would not get upset about them tonight. No. He was just reminding himself. 

There were more on his backside. Steve hesitated, staring at his hands in the mirror. He almost decided not to, his stomach turning into knots. But he made the mistake and met his eyes in the mirror, and he knew he could not stop. Steve quickly averted his eyes, and then slowly began to turn around. 

Before he could look back at the mirror, he noticed someone standing in the doorway to the bedroom. He tensed, flushing with shame at being caught. He should have heard the door open, he admonished himself. The embarrassment amplified as he realized it was Tony. Of course it was Tony, who else would come into their bedroom without knocking?

Caught up in his fluster, Steve startled when Tony suddenly appeared much closer than he had been a moment before. The door was closed, now. He still had not heard it. Steve clenched his jaw tighter, but Tony’s hands cupped his cheeks, and Steve forced himself to relax again. He closed his eyes. 

“Bad day?” Tony asked, voice unbearably soft to Steve’s ears. Steve could only nod, because it had been. “Is that why you’re punishing yourself?”

Steve’s eyes flew back open, wide as he stared at Tony, who stared steadily back. 

“I…” Steve choked on the rest of the sentence. He refused to lie to Tony about it, but neither did he want to admit it out loud. “M-Maybe…”

Tony sighed, obviously unsatisfied with that answer. But his expression never turned upset or disappointed. Just sad. Which was almost worse, somehow. Steve ducked his head, waiting for Tony to say the words he always did. He would say that Steve was beautiful even with the stretch marks, that they did not mean he was imperfect, that Tony loved him anyway and Steve should, too. 

Instead, Tony stepped back, his hands leaving Steve’s cheeks. Steve’s chest tightened at the loss, fear rising, unbidden, that maybe this was it. Tony could no longer deal with Steve’s mess. But Tony stayed. He stood in front of Steve, and simply lifted off his shirt. 

It confused Steve, but Tony just smiled at him and tossed his shirt aside. He took Steve’s hand, and turned him back around to face the mirror. Steve averted his eyes, not looking into the mirror until Tony, interestingly, stood between Steve and the mirror, facing the glass and looking over himself. 

Tony’s scars were much more visible than Steve’s stretch marks. They were light against his tan skin, and, especially around the arc reactor, were thick and pronounced. Tony’s scars were from all kinds of things, Steve knew. Not only from Afghanistan, but from work in the lab that may have gone a little awry, and from the Iron Man suit and battles Tony had fought, with and without the Avengers. Each scar had a story, something that made Tony into who he was today. Steve knew most of the stories, though there were still a few Tony refused to share. 

Tony’s hand squeezed Steve’s, which Steve had almost forgotten he was holding. Their eyes locked in the mirror. Tony reached back to take Steve’s other hand, and pulled both around himself, raising them to his chest where Steve’s fingers touched the edges of the scars around the reactor. Steve’s breath caught. Tony’s eyes stayed firmly on Steve’s, and Steve could not look away. 

“Do you hate these, too?” Tony asked, gently. 

The words were still a sucker-punch to the gut. Steve gasped out a small breath, his throat constricting. 

“ _ No _ ,” Steve breathed, wounded. How many times had he told Tony he loved them? How many times had he kissed over them and thanked them for bringing Tony to him; for making Tony into the beautiful man he was? “They… They mean you survived. They let you make it here. To me. I couldn’t hate them, Tony. Never.” He solidified his hold on Tony and pulled him closer, ducking his head to press a soft kiss against his shoulder. His fingers brushed gently over Tony’s scars in the same reverent motions he always used when touching them. 

Despite Steve’s tightening hold, Tony turned around in Steve’s arms, his hands gently pressing against Steve’s chest. Steve was hyper-aware of where Tony’s fingers brushed over the stretch marks on his chest. He waited for Tony to say something. The words never came. Tony ducked his head, tilting it to the side, and started on one side of Steve’s chest to press a kiss to each line of stretched skin. 

Steve gasped a ragged breath and tried to pull away, but Tony’s arms wrapped around him, holding him in place. Tony continued, unfazed. He looked up at Steve when he was done with his chest, expression soft and eyes adoring. Steve almost looked away, face burning with self-consciousness. He would never get used to someone looking at him like that, like Steve really mattered to them in the ways that were most important. 

Tony gave Steve a gentle push, and walked him back towards the bed, away from the mirror. 

“Lay back for me,” Tony murmured, once the back of Steve’s knees bumped the bed. 

They had to let go of each other for Steve to obey, but it was okay. As soon as Steve laid back, head resting on the pillows, Tony was there, settling with his legs straddling Steve’s hips and leaning over him. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever done this for you,” Tony murmured, reaching up to brush Steve’s fringe away from his forehead. “But I’m gonna do it now.” He gently held Steve’s wrists, and laid his hands up by his head. “Don’t put your arms down, sweetheart. Please.” 

Steve’s brow furrowed, confused, but Tony just smiled lovingly at him again. He leaned down to press a kiss to the wrinkles between Steve’s eyebrows. It helped Steve relax a little, until Tony leaned down and started pressing kisses to the marks under Steve’s arms. Steve tried to draw his arms back in, but Tony reached up to press them back into position, continuing as if nothing had interrupted him. 

Tony was right, he had never done this for Steve before. Steve had kissed over Tony’s scars plenty of times, always eager to show him that he loved the scars and the man attached. Tony had never done the same for Steve’s stretch marks, not like this. 

The kisses began on Steve’s right arm, and crossed over his chest again to his left arm. Then Tony let go of Steve’s wrists, and followed the rest of the stretch marks down Steve’s body. Over his pectorals and down his abdominals, and the whole time, Tony’s fingers gently brushed over the marks on Steve’s sides. Tony shuffled back so that he could kneel between Steve’s legs. He bent to kiss over the marks on Steve’s sides, and then shuffled back a little more to kiss the spidery marks on his thighs. 

Steve failed at keeping his arms put. But Tony had moved on from them, so Steve felt less guilt as he slung one arm over his eyes, his other hand tightly gripping onto the pillow under his head. He wanted to squirm and wriggle away from Tony’s gentle touches and his soft lips. The marks were an imperfection. That kind of attention was undeserved. He bit his lip, and fought down the lump forming in his throat. His breaths started to tremble as he struggled to keep them even. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Tony gently patted Steve’s hip. “Turn over, please.”

Steve whimpered. He was already holding back so much. How could he bear it if Tony continued? But if Tony wanted this, who was Steve to deny him? As slowly as he could get away with, Steve flipped himself over. He wrapped his arms around the pillow and buried his face in it, hiding. Tony settled over Steve’s hips again, and leaned over to press a kiss to the back of his head.

“Remember to breathe,” Tony instructed, voice still unbearably gentle. 

Steve knew there were stretch marks on his back, though it was harder to really give them the same attention he gave the others. Feeling Tony’s lips on them, not neglecting a single one, made Steve shiver. He pressed his face harder into the pillow as his eyes stung. It was nearly too much. Tony continued over his back, even kissing the marks on his side again. A soft sob escaped into the pillow, and Steve squeezed his eyes shut harder against forming tears. 

Tony kept lowering himself down Steve’s body, kissing the marks that adorned the curve of his bottom and the backs of his thighs. He even kissed the marks that stretched from the tops of Steve’s calves up over the backs of his knees. Steve held back his sounds, but he felt the tears leaking into the pillowcase. He had to lift his head to breathe, sucking in a deep breath as he trembled under Tony. Another sob forced its way from Steve’s chest, and Tony was at his side in an instant. 

Tony wrapped his arms around Steve and held him close as he cried softly. Steve started to shake his head, but Tony cupped the back of his head to keep him still and began to pet his hair. 

“Your marks are beautiful, too,” Tony murmured, right into Steve’s ear. Steve sobbed. “You know why? ‘Cause they mean you were able to make it here. To the future. To me.” He pressed a kiss to Steve’s temple. “I love you so much,” Tony hummed, voice dropping even lower, which made Steve shiver. “These remind me that something happened, something changed so that you could make it here. Just like this,” he tapped the arc reactor. “Just like I made it to you.”

Steve’s crying slowly calmed down, and he tipped his head up to look at Tony, eyes still wet. Tony’s thumb brushed away the tear tracks on Steve’s cheeks, and he smiled down at Steve, leaning close to press their lips together. Finally, Steve was able to relax some. He sniffled a little, but happily returned the kiss. 

Parts of Steve still disliked the stretch marks, still wished they would disappear like all the other marks on his body always did. But other parts were warmed by Tony’s words and kisses. Some parts, in the back of his mind and the depths of his heart felt that, maybe, he could learn to love the marks as much as Tony seemed to. 

He gave Tony a watery smile, “I love you.” 

Tony just smiled back, bright and beautiful and so, so adoring, and kissed Steve again. 


End file.
